The Apprentice
by atoafriend
Summary: "As a conductor of light, you are unbeatable!" John thinks Sherlock is dead, but he's about to find out there's so much more to everything, to Sherlock...and to himself. Because only John has the ability to tell 'truth' from 'lie'. Fantasy, AU.
1. Prologue

_- - - {'The Apprentice' - **Prologue, "clinically dead"**}_

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Sherlock Holmes was dead. "Clinically dead", as the paramedics said. He had been dead for exactly two minutes, and Mycroft knew his time was running out. Sherlock was ordinary, after all. The limitations of all humans applied to him just as they did to anyone else.

_Three minutes._

If only he still had control of his tempo stone. Then all it would take was a spark, and Sherlock would be alive and well again. But instead he had foolishly wasted it for power, for prestige.

_Four minutes._

Ironically, he had done so to _protect_ his family, and now it was costing him his brother's life.

His eyes met with those of the head paramedic, and she shook her head. It had been five minutes since Sherlock's heart had stopped beating, and almost four minutes since his brain stopped.

Mycroft knew he had been a fool for the latter part of his life. He had used his Gift selfishly, deluded himself into thinking they were good intentions - and wasted it. He had hoped to prevent Sherlock from repeating the same mistake, but now that was impossible.

Well, almost impossible.

Seconds earlier Greg had entered the emergency room where the paramedics had brought Sherlock. The paramedics, their job now done, left the room on his orders. He crossed his arms and regarded the room: Mycroft Holmes standing stone-still, and the limp body of Sherlock Holmes on the cart in the middle of the bleached room.

"Well?" Mycroft asked, not turning to face Greg.

Greg frowned. "'Well', what?"

"You have to do it, Greg. You have to save him."

Realization dawned on the DI's face as he realized what Mycroft was asking him to do. "No," he said firmly. "I can't do that. He's not ready." Mycroft didn't answer. "You said yourself he can't have that kind of power!" Greg continued.

"It's no longer a question of if he's ready. His _life_ is at stake!" Mycroft replied.

"Maybe you should've though about that before you used up _yours_," Greg retorted.

Mycroft's frame stiffened for a moment before turning to face Greg. "I wish I did."

The DI sighed, closing his eyes. "Then I suppose you're going to train him?"

"No. You are."

Greg's eyes snapped open. "_Me_? No, I can't take an apprentice."

"He won't be your _apprentice_, but he'll be the closest thing to one. And he's already been trained, he just needs to know the rules."

"He'd never get along with Sally. Or Brian. And I have enough trouble with those two as it is!"

"He has potential, Greg. He can be stronger than both of them, and when AURORA is activated...well...Sherlock is the only one who has the potential to rival AURORA's."

"Yeah...I know." A few moments of silence passed. Greg cast the pale form a morose glance, then looked up at Mycroft. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"If you would, please," Mycroft answered softly.

The DI nodded, then walked up to the cart where Sherlock Holmes laid. He turned to Mycroft. "Do you have it?"

Mycroft held out his right hand. There was a soft glow of light, and there it was: a pale, clear, crystalline prism, just smaller than Mycroft's palm and shaped like a cross - Sherlock's tempo stone.

He carefully handed it to Greg, who held it over Sherlock's still frame. The stone began to glow brighter and fill with color - a transparent grayish blue with patches of hazel in the center - then dimmed down to a subtle pulse. 'A _tempo vivace_,' Mycroft noted as Greg tucked the stone behind Sherlock's cold neck. 'Interesting..."

Greg turned around and motioned to the paramedics waiting outside to return. "Try it again," he said.

"But sir, it's already been - "

"I know, and I don't care. Try it again," Greg ordered. The head paramedic hesitated for a moment, then summoned the rest of the team into the room. Mycroft stepped aside to join Greg as they watched from the door as the defibrillator charged and the electrodes released almost 260 joules of electricity through his brother's body.

On the third shock, Sherlock began to breathe. Another three hours later, he was fully conscious.

Within twenty-four hours, it was as if the overdose had never happened.

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I discovered _Sherlock_ right in the middle of my anime craze. The anime I was currently obsessed with was _Puella Magi Madoka Magica_ - an amazing fantasy anime that challenged all the stereotypes of "magical girls". The animation, color, concept, and design are amazing, and that's not to mention the storyline and the soundtrack (written by the amazing Yuki Kajiura). After the season 1 finale of _Sherlock_ I wanted to do a fantasy AU fanfic, and this is the result. There's certain aspects borrowed from _Madoka Magica_, but it's not really a crossover.

Other inspiration for this fic was Florence + The Machine's song "Rabbit Heart" (if you look up the lyrics, they foreshadow this story quite a bit) and, loosely, _The Sorcerer's Apprentice_.


	2. Chapter 1

_- - - {'The Apprentice' – **Chapter 1, prelude I**}_

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_Four years later..._

Sherlock leaned back, shifting his weight to his heels as he exhaled the cigarette smoke into the cool autumn air behind St. Bart's. For some reason, everyone was always telling him it was a bad habit, even thought it had no long-term effects on his body - the magic in his system healed it in no time. "Just because your body is capable of regeneration doesn't mean you should take advantage of it," Mycroft lectured.

'It doesn't make any difference,' Sherlock thought, taking another drag from the cigarette. 'It's not like I'm using magic from my tempo stone.'

The residual magic had subsided somewhat since the "incident" four years ago, but it was still potent. Any injury he received healed immediately, no matter the severity, and his mental ability was continuously augmented. He would stay that way until all the magic was used up; then he would have to activate his tempo stone to continue using magic, which Mycroft strictly forbade him to do under _any_ circumstance.

Although Sherlock was technically given "possession" of his tempo stone, he wasn't allowed to _physically_ possess it. Mycroft was always worried that he would do something foolish and activate it, and it was only recently when he finally decided that, after four years, Sherlock's mind had normalized enough to allow him to keep it - and then it was only with the knowledge of Mycroft's constant surveillance watching his every move. Sherlock had scoffed at his brother's constant worrying, but deep inside he knew his brother was right: even with the residual magic granting him plenty access to his abilities, he was sorely tempted to activate his tempo stone just to see how much more him abilities would improve. Imagine all the information he could process and all the cases he could solve!

For the tiniest fraction of a second he brushed his right hand on the small lump in his trouser pocket where his tempo stone rested, wanting nothing more than to unleash all the potential contained within...

'No,' he thought, closing his eyes. 'I can't do that.' He took one last drag from the cigarette before dropping the butt to the ground, stepping on it as he turned around to head back into the mortuary. 'After all, I still need to find a suitable apprentice.'

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Every human who was presented with a chance for the Gift had a tempo stone. It formed at the moment its owner became an apprentice to another magician, but it couldn't be activated immediately. The mentor magician would first take time to train their apprentice, preparing them for their eventual role as a magician. The stone would continue to grow and mature, and when the apprentice has learned all their mentor has taught them they would be given possession of their dormant tempo stone, which would allow limited access to their magic and one last chance to accept or reject the Gift. If they rejected it, they would continue their life normally and the stone would eventually destroy itself (although they would still retain a little bit of their main abilities); if they accepted it, the stone would activate and its owner could fully utilize their magical ability.

There was, however, a catch. A tempo stone's existence served as a sort of AC adapter for magic, allowing the magician to access it without overwhelming their bodies. Each time a magician used magic their tempo stone was exposed to the direct stream of magic, and constant use would eventually wear it out and it would dissipate, rendering the magician useless. One way to prolong the life of a tempo stone was to use it sparingly and recharge it. Unconsciousness was the most natural way to restore a tempo stone, which was why sleep was often recommended after extraneous use, but as the stone ages it becomes less and less able to retain a charge. The only other way to maintain a tempo stone's storage capacity was to steal magic from another magician - which was, of course, illegal.

A magician could also take someone on as an apprentice without offering them a Gift. The mentor could train an apprentice without having to tell them that it was magic, and the apprentice would subconsciously utilize this strength while being completely oblivious to the magical aspect of it and simply dismiss any oddities. A trade magician still needed a tempo stone to utilize magic, but its location is known only to the mentor. If the mentor believes the apprentice is able to handle the gift, they then proceed to explain everything to them and give them possession of their tempo stone and the choice to accept or reject the Gift. If the apprentice is deemed unsuitable, then the mentor would hide the stone and ensure that the apprentice will never find it, either by accident or on purpose.

This was what Sherlock had in mind. The idea first came to him several months ago when he decided that, at the rate he was solving cases for Lestrade, his magic would soon be depleted within the next decade. And since he was not allowed to activate his tempo stone, that would leave him unable to continue his work and the crime rates of London would skyrocket. He would need someone who could assist him on his cases and, when the time comes, succeed him. He knew this wouldn't be easy, but he had to. If not him, then someone else had to take over for him to protect the streets of London.

The only problem was finding someone who could qualify.

In the months since he first got his idea, Sherlock had carefully constructed a mental checklist of qualities his apprentice must have, everything from practical expectations to qualities that Sherlock himself lacked:

They had to be comfortable around Sherlock and not intimidated by him.

They had to intellectually competent, able to keep up with his deductions and understand them.

They must be able to put up with Sherlock and his habits (which was a considerable challenge in and of itself).

They could not be intimidated by danger.

They had to be someone that Sherlock could trust his back with, someone he could rely on.

They had to be someone who shows not only capability in magic, but also responsibility; they would not misuse it for selfish purposes.

And, most of all, they must understand that the Gift of magic comes with a price. They had to be willing to give something up from their ordinary life to be extraordinary, and know that being a magician would not be an easy task. Mycroft's Gift had cost him Sherlock's life, and Sherlock's Gift nearly cost him his sanity. Whoever ends up becoming his apprentice could not - absolutely _could not_ - be someone who would repeat the same mistakes he and his brother did, wishing for things that were not meant for them.

They must be someone who truly _deserves_ the Gift.

So, after months of thinking and planning things over, Sherlock decided to make a casual remark to Mike that he was having trouble finding someone to share a flat with.

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This chapter gave me so much grief to type. xP I had to restart it several times, making sure I didn't give away too much too early on and that everything ties in with the series. Most of it is explaining the workings of things so things don't get too confusing later on. The next 2 or so chapters are all going to be "prelude" chapters that explain the back-story before moving on to the actual story itself.

Also, I realize my other poor Sherlock fics are sitting there all alone and neglected, so I will try to update those next.

And I would really like to hear your thoughts on this fic (as well as my others). The prologue itself got almost 80 hits in 24 hours, so I know at least _some_ people find this interesting. Reviews aren't just praise, constructive criticism also counts! Writing is not my strongest trait, and I would like for it to improve as much as it can. :)


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